


Cheat Day (Stay Hydrated Pt. 1)

by StrikeLikeACobraKai



Series: Working Up a Sweat [3]
Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: 1987ish, A lot of Bourbon, Alcohol, BOBBY GOT DAT THIRST THO, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Bodily Fluids, Body Shots, Bourbon - Freeform, Dirtying up the sheets, Eye Banging, Fast learner, Filthy, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Jealousy kink?, M/M, No internalised biphobia in this series, POV Bobby, POV First Person, Pre-existing connection between Johnny and Dutch, Smut, So filthy I can't even decide which other tags to bother with, Sorry but that isn't getting defined yet, Sorry to leave you in the dark just like poor Bobby, Tasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Watching Top Gun together as foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeLikeACobraKai/pseuds/StrikeLikeACobraKai
Summary: c. 1987.Johnny invites Bobby along to pay Dutch a visit, where Bobby get some questions answered.(Inspired by every shirtless pic/gif from TKK, and in particular the shorts and lack of shirts at soccer tryouts)
Relationships: Bobby Brown/Johnny Lawrence, Dutch/Bobby Brown, Dutch/Johnny Lawrence, Johnny Lawrence/Dutch/Bobby Brown
Series: Working Up a Sweat [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018029
Comments: 33
Kudos: 25





	Cheat Day (Stay Hydrated Pt. 1)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KingKarate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingKarate/gifts).



> I reserve the right to use that title again if necessary, hence the Pt. 1, but I can’t not use it for this chapter
> 
> I understand I might have lost you when this instalment turns into a threesome????? Or????
> 
> I’m really sorry if I have <3 Please do feel free to just enjoy the first two parts instead, since they stand alone. But this is definitely where I was always gonna go, so if you’re on board, awesomeeee. You seriously do need to read this series in order to get the full, ah, IMPACT. But you know… your call :) Maybe you don’t like to have nice things, idk.
> 
> Depending on what kind of person you are, this may either be the peak of the entire series, or the trough. What I’m saying is, they can’t all be this peaky tho *__*. Please forgive me for that. I’ll try to get there again at some point, but there’s no guarantee XD
> 
> Future instalments may include up to all three of the guys, but not always ALL three.
> 
> I don’t know how long the series is, but it’s not less than 6 or 7. So I’ll give you one each week, if I’m ready to. It’s possible there might even be a non-smut one, because BOBBY, amirite? :) I mean, you don’t have to read that unless you wanna haha. Anyway, the guys are messing with my pacing like a motherfucker, but I’ll try to get them in line ;)
> 
> My OG OGs, KingKarate, SecretSecret, Wadsworth, LMT, you are fucking awesome, and everyday you’re in my prayers when I stop by my Bobby Johnny Shrine. Please don’t die when you read this (or DO? Idk).
> 
> Thank you to the readers and the kudos givers *mwah* Please, PLEASE do feel free to **join into** our shared flail chats, here, on tumblr, anywhereeeeeeeee, cos I/we’d love to hear from you XD. Doesn’t matter if you’re jumping on the train later than we did, when it’s already running full speed. We will help you up!
> 
> _[Dutch note copied from Part 4 - cos I think it's a good idea to have it here too] I feel it’s worth pointing out my approach with Dutch in 'Sweat'… I’m learning to explore different sides of his character in my works, and what felt right at this time period, this context, was that his intense rage isn’t really around anymore: the influence that caused it is gone, the various threats to himself and to Johnny are gone, and yeah, this is just where I felt Dutch would go after that. He’s always had a lot of emotion, but it manifests differently now. I’m sure the rage would come back, if someone threatened someone (Johnny) he cared about, but Bobby isn’t a threat, in fact he shares the same protective feelings, so… yeah._

A couple weeks later, when we’re leaving the gym, Johnny tells me he’s going to Dutch’s the next night, to watch movies.

We’re both at our cars, shoving our bags in the trunks, and when Johnny slams his lid down, he turns to me with something thoughtful on his face, and crosses his arms.

“I mean, you can go with me, if you want?”

“Sounds cool. What time?”

“Like, seven, something like that.”

And now I’m knocking on the apartment, and Dutch opens the door to me, smiling in that crooked way of his.

“Oh, hey, Bobby. Johnny said you were comin’ round.” He steps to the side, inviting me in. He’s wearing a red and black plaid shirt, and his hair’s gotten a little longer since the last time I saw him.

“Hey, Dutch. That okay?” I’m stepping past, and seeing that Johnny’s already here ahead of me.

“Yeah, of course,” Dutch tells me, closing the door.

Johnny’s sitting on the near end of a couch in the room I come into, which is half kitchen, half dining or living room.

On the right is the small kitchen, and counter, on the left a table where four people could sit, and then behind that, where Johnny is, with his can of beer, there’s two long sofas in an L in front of a TV in the corner, so it’s a pretty crowded space.

There’s a doorway in the middle over there that I guess leads to a short hallway, and whatever other rooms there are, and I can see three doors, all closed.

Johnny’s turned around to me. “Hey,” I greet him, which he echoes, and then I ask Dutch, “How’ve you been?”

“Alright. You? Been way too long.” He’s padding over to the kitchen, to the fridge, in bare feet.

“Yeah, I’m all good.”

“We were just about to start to watch some movies, cool?” Dutch says, as he reaches in and grabs a beer.

I nod. “Sounds good.”

He comes back around the kitchen counter to toss it to me, and I catch it. He goes in between the couches, walks past Johnny, and sits down at the other end to where Johnny is.

Both the couches end pretty close to the walls, since this isn’t a huge space, so that little gap between them is the best way in there. I sit about halfway along the other sofa.

Dutch picks up the remote control from a little, yellow, formica end table which he’s using in place of a proper coffee table, and points it at the TV.

I’m not shocked to find out we’re watching Delta Force, since I remember Dutch liking military and tough guy movies just as much as Johnny does. Johnny and I saw this when it came out, and it’s pretty good.

I settle into watching the men run around the burning helicopter, and flash a glance over to the other couch.

Those guys are glued to the TV. I can’t help but notice how Dutch has pulled his feet up off the floor, and has them along the couch, right near Johnny, and it makes me wonder what the vibe was here, before I got here, whether I interrupted anything. I’ll never know, but they don’t seem to mind me being here.

I enjoy my beer while we watch. We’re in one of the hostage release parts of the movie when Dutch gets up and brings more beers over, this time handing me mine properly, before sitting down with Johnny again.

When that movie’s over, Dutch gets up to put the tape back in its case, not bothering to rewind, and he turns to us.

“I was thinking we could get fried chicken? Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Johnny agrees, and I nod. He stands up. “I’ll get it, Dutch. You stay here and entertain Bobby.”

My eyes fly to Johnny, and he throws me this smug smile, because he knows that that statement is going to unsettle me, make me pretty uncertain. Because of what we talked about right at the end, that day after our run. I think it might even be his way of getting back at me for asking him about it, like a game.

He says to Dutch, “There’s a place down the block, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“Cool. Back soon.”

Dutch has stretched out his legs further into Johnny’s empty space, and he smiles across at me.

“Johnny’s been telling me about your workouts.”

From the pretty innocent look, especially given this is Dutch, surely, _surely,_ he’s talking about the actual workouts, but I still feel a flush of heat on the back of my neck with those dark eyes on me.

I clear my throat. “Yeah. We go to the gym together, two or three times a week.”

“He said you benched two fifteen yesterday. Sounded pretty impressed you got there so quick.”

I smile to myself, wondering what that conversation sounded like. “Oh he did, did he?”

“Sure. Said you’re not bad on your legs.”

I put my beer on the table, where the empty cans are, and stretch my arms out along the back of the sofa. “If by not bad, you mean thirty five ahead of Johnny, then yeah. Still working on catching him on the bench, though.”

Dutch grins. “I kinda wanna come along to watch this. You guys are taking it pretty seriously.”

“You work out?”

“Yeah. Not as much as you two, by the sounds.” Dutch chuckles.

“We run, too.”

“Shit, you see Johnny a lot, huh?”

“Yeah, well.” I shrug easily. “He’s still my best friend.”

Dutch puts his head back on the arm of the sofa, so he’s kinda lying down. “I haven’t seen him for like, three or four months. Been even longer with you.”

I look sheepish. “Yeah, sorry about that. We should catch up more often, huh?”

“We should.”

“You hang out with Tommy much?”

He takes a drink from his can. “Oh yeah, most weeks, and sometimes Jimmy comes over with him.”

I did know that. Jimmy’s always got some funny story about the last thing that happened hanging out, and it keeps me in touch with Dutch. “You seeing anyone?” I ask. “You gotta girl?”

Dutch gives this small smirk. “I see people, sometimes. No one serious at the moment.”

“You go out, much?”

“Yeah. Me and Tommy do, most Saturdays. You?”

“Nah, not these days. Guess I’m spending all my free time on exercise and working out, plus trying to do a health kick.” I gently tap my beer with my foot. “You’re making me come off the wagon.”

There’s the tiniest flicker of concern. “Shit, for real?”

“Nah, I’m kidding. But I don’t drink as much, anymore. Try not to each much junk, either.”

“Well, shit, Bobby, you shoulda said something.” He gives a derisive chuckle and says mockingly, “You want me to get you like, some salad or something? Protein shake? Here, you better let me take that.” He’s sitting up and reaching toward my beer, but I grin and grab it before he can.

“It’s nice to have some fun. I don’t need to follow the rules all the time.”

Dutch runs his fingers through his hair and smirks. “You do _like_ to, though.”

“Shut your mouth. Just because you never obeyed a single one in your life.”

Dutch grins proudly at me. “Hey, I tried… a few times. It’s harder than it looks.”

That’s when Johnny comes back; I hear the door open behind me.

He’s got a giant bucket of chicken under one arm, and I notice how, right away, he looks at where I am, where Dutch is, how we are sitting, almost like he’s checking that nothing changed since he was away. I’m not sure what he thinks could’ve possibly happened in such a short time.

I notice there’s a look, kind of a smile, that Johnny gives Dutch, for a second or two, and there’s just something in it that makes me wonder if I shouldn’t be here, like I’m intruding.

He brings the bucket with him to sit back down, ripping the top off with it on his lap and reaching in for a piece.

Then he holds the it out to me, and I grab a drumstick, before he sits the bucket on the couch between him and Dutch, and Dutch dives in.

Right away I’m biting into the salty, oily crunch, because I haven’t eaten this for ages, and it’s good.

Dutch licks his fingers and gets up to set another movie going, Top Gun, this time.

We make our way pretty steadily though the chicken, passing it around between us, and throwing the bones on top of the cardboard lid, on Dutch’s end table. We start on the next beers, too, and I’m enjoying eating total rubbish for a change, although I’m probably gonna feel gross tomorrow. We’re all pretty relaxed, all got our shoes off and settled in comfortably.

I don’t know if Dutch knows he does it, but in between every piece of chicken, he licks his fingers, one at a time, and his thumb last of all, and I feel drawn to the movement every time I see it in the corner of my eye, although I try not to stare.

Johnny catches me the fourth time, and raises his eyebrows at me. When I try to pretend he saw nothing, they go further up his forehead, like that’s bullshit, and his mouth twitches.

I feel an uncomfortable twinge inside my jeans, because I don’t know what Johnny’d think if I checked Dutch out, maybe also a little confused that I _want_ to check Dutch out, but not really. I’m coming to terms with it.

But I’m not sure if it’d be okay with Johnny. There’s just this hint of like, something territorial about him tonight, plus I don’t want Johnny to blow my cover, wouldn’t want Dutch to notice me doing it. He might hate it. He could give me hell for it.

I decide I can’t look anymore, thanks to Johnny, so I eat my chicken and drink my beer, and pretty much just watch the movie. I’m not sure if it’s just where my mind is at, but I’m starting to think this movie has themes I hadn’t recognised last time I watched.

The beach volleyball scene confirms it beyond doubt, and I wonder how I never noticed when it’s clear as fucking day.

Once, when there’s a fair bit of athletic skin on the screen, and a close-up on some abs, I shoot Johnny just one smirk without thinking, finding he’s already looking at me, doing the _same_ , which is fun, but when I’m looking back at the TV, I realise Dutch just noticed us do that.

I feel the flush on the back of my neck.

I’m starting to wonder what Johnny invited me here for, and have this terrible feeling that I’ve started getting my hopes up for… something, not sure what, except that it involves all three of us, but what if actually nothing’s gonna happen?

Can I help make it happen?

Once the credits are running, over shots of the guys without their shirts again, just in case nobody got it, yet, Dutch stretches his arms up behind his head and sighs loudly, looking mostly at Johnny.

“That’s about enough for me. Thinking I might go to bed. You guys staying over?”

“Yeah,” Johnny says, and I shrug and nod when Dutch glances across.

Hope stirs in my stomach. “If it’s okay for me to stay?”

“Sure, yeah. Well, you guys don’t need to go to sleep ‘til you wanna.” He points at the TV stand. “I got some more movies over there, if you want.”

“Maybe,” Johnny says. “You got more beer?”

Dutch grins. “Help yourself.” I see him swallow, and then he wets his bottom lip, the movement grabbing my attention. He tips his head a little to the side and looks casually at my best friend. “Where you sleeping, Johnny?”

Johnny’s tone is just as even. “In your room, I guess.”

Oh, _shit_.

It makes Dutch smile briefly, and something flashes in his eyes, and I realise I’m jealous. I’m not sure of which of them, but they have something going; still going, or about to start again, I have no idea.

“Bobby?” Dutch asks me.

I can hardly just come out with that same answer right off the bat, as much as I _really_ want to, so I offer, “I dunno, on the couch, whatever.”

I see Johnny’s fingers tap out a rhythm on the sofa arm, and he gives me a long look, that I don’t know how to respond to.

“I’m gonna crash,” Dutch tells us.

He gets to his feet, and makes for the gap between the sofas, but Johnny puts his leg up to bar the way out.

Dutch stands there looking down at him, and I can tell right away, they are communicating something. I can see from side on that Dutch has got a question on his face, and Johnny’s shoulders lift up in a meaningful shrug. Dutch glances at me and back to Johnny, who gives him a smile of the kind he gives me, right before we do our thing.

Johnny drops his leg out of the way. Dutch smirks at no one in particular and heads into the kitchen. He opens a cupboard above the oven, and grabs a bottle down from what looks like his liquor shelf, a full bottle of Wild Turkey, I think, and a single shot glass, and then closes the little door.

He turns and throws us a look, first Johnny, and then longer on me, like he’s weighing me up, and then he leaves, walking out to his room.

“What’s happening?” I ask Johnny, who’s watching me now. “What did all that mean?”

“It means, do you wanna come into his room for a drink?”

“A drink. Right.”

“You up for it?”

In answer, I’m already standing up, but Johnny blocks my way by getting up too, and doesn’t let me out through the gap.

“Things are gonna happen in there,” he says, from not too far away from me “You sure you can handle it?”

I stare at him steadily. “I can. Can _you?_ ”

Johnny’s eyes drop ever so briefly to my lips, and then he turns to walk to Dutch’s room.

By the time we get in there, Dutch is undressed, sitting in the middle of his big bed, in his pale blue, cotton boxer shorts, knees bent underneath him, and swigging from the bottle of bourbon. He’s still really cut, tanned, and he’s got that necklace on, hanging down over his chest.

On his bed, which isn’t made, the shot glass is lying on a rumpled black sheet next to him. There’s just a lamp on for light, on the bedside table, throwing a warm yellow into the room. Dutch’s clothes, like that plaid shirt he was wearing, are in a pile on the floor, amongst a bunch of other mess.

Dutch stops drinking when he sees Johnny, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes widen a little when I follow Johnny in, and then he starts on this wicked smile.

He looks like he might say something to me, but then Johnny pulls his shirt off and drops it on the carpet, and climbs across the bed in his jeans, over to Dutch, who watches his approach.

Johnny holds out his hand and is passed the bottle, and he takes a drink, and then turns to me, still up on his knees.

He says, pretty arrogantly, “You just gonna stand there?”

I look at him, at the two of them, anxious because I feel like they’ve got a lot over me, right now, with experience, but I’m very eager to learn.

“Do I gotta take my shirt off, too?” I tease as I cross the room.

Dutch chuckles and says derisively, “Not if you’re _shy_ , Bobby...”

“Go to hell,” I say, because I’m not gonna let them scare me. I step up to the bed and look at Johnny. “Gimme a drink of that.”

He passes me the bottle, and I throw back a good few mouthfuls, enjoying the throat burn as I swallow, the head rush that comes.

I lean over to pass it back to Dutch, so I can slide my shirt off.

They’re both watching, and I see them smirk at each other once I’ve done that, like they like what they see, like Johnny wanted to show Dutch this, _me,_ so I’m gonna do better. Yeah, I’m much more satisfied with how Dutch’s eyes darken, and Johnny tries, but fails, to hide some surprise when I undo my fly and step out of my jeans, straight down to my short black trunks.

I drop down onto Dutch’s bed, facing them and lying on my side, with my arm under my head, and showing what I hope is no fear.

Dutch has his eyes somewhere around my stomach, and his hand is fishing for that shot glass. “Want another drink, Johnny?” he asks. “Don’t know about you, but I’m _thirsty_.”

Dutch is still looking right at me, looking over my body now, looking at my thighs, and the feeling goes right to my dick.

I figure that means I can feel great about checking him out too, so I do, raking my eyes over his arms and shoulders to start with, which just look so _strong_ , and so golden brown, and I really hope I get to touch those.

I hear Johnny’s low laugh. “Bobby’s not ready for that… not until we’ve showed him how.”

His hands fall on Dutch’s shoulders, striking a chord of envy in me, and he’s pushing at him to lie back, but Dutch resists it and shakes his head.

“Uh uh. I said _I_ was thirsty. Lie down.”

Johnny smirks, and I’m kinda surprised that he agrees right away, that he lets Dutch tell him what to do.

He stretches out in front of him, between the two of us, on his back, with his hands up under his head, elbows spread wide, and gives Dutch this expectant look.

It’s hard not to look at his body, since it’s the centre of attention, and that’s what I’m doing, thinking about how fucking great it is to have so _much_ to look at: not just Johnny in a situation where I have plenty of time to look properly right before I’m gonna be touching, but with the two of them, everything in Dutch’s body as well, some or maybe all of which I know I’m gonna get my hands on. For fuck’s _sake_ , the way his necklace rests in that little dip in the centre of his chest, at the bottom of where his ribs meet, and I just can’t stop staring at his stomach, just above where his boxers start.

My fingers are _itching_ , but I know I wanna watch whatever it is they are gonna do.

Dutch is pouring into the glass, and he gives my groin a searching look, a smirk, and then finds my eyes.

“Hold this?” He passes me the bottle, over Johnny.

He gives me a dirty smile as he shuffles his legs back a bit, and then holds the glass low over Johnny’s stomach and pours some of it into his navel, not seeming to care that it doesn’t really all stay in there.

Johnny’s tensed up to stay totally still: I can see the lines of his muscles standing out, and my eyes go wide as I watch Dutch bend over and cover Johnny’s skin with his mouth.

I glance up at Johnny, but he’s just watching Dutch intently, and his eyes glaze over a little.

Dutch is running his tongue in and around Johnny’s navel, and I am so hard it hurts.

He pours the rest of the drink in, well, kinda in, and this time he watches me while he goes after it, those dark eyes on me, and I am so turned on, by his hard stare, by what his mouth is doing, by the thought of _where_ his mouth is, I lose any small hesitation I had.

Just about the second he finishes, I’m getting up and handing him the bottle back. “Do I get a turn?”

I look at Johnny’s face while Dutch pours me the shot, both of us knowing what I will do in a few seconds, and his want is so fierce that it makes a raging ache gather at my groin. Dutch presses the shot glass into my hand, brushing my fingers in a long, rough touch, and I think Johnny’s still staring at me when I look away and start concentrating on pouring, without spilling the bourbon all over Dutch’s bed.

I realise using just under half’s about right, since the amber liquid starts to spill properly out, then, and I quickly bend over and chase it before it can run far over Johnny’s stomach.

I feel him move under me, his muscles clench and unclench, and it’s pretty fucking awesome that I’m putting my mouth on those, and drinking, licking from his body the taste of caramel, of smoke, of Johnny’s _skin._

It’s not long until the trace of the bourbon’s just about gone, but I test out sucking a little, dragging his skin against my teeth.

I hear his gasp, and do it a bit harder, before I sit up, flashing him a glance, smiling when I see that he’s into it.

“You liked that?” Dutch asks me while I’m refilling Johnny, his face so at home with that dirty smile.

I shrug as if it’s no big deal. “I think _he_ does.”

I see him smiling at Johnny with his eyebrows raised, like he never knew I had this in me. I lower down and slide my tongue in deep, sending the bourbon running out so that I have no choice but to clean it up, really getting into my work now, starting to count Johnny’s abdominal muscles with my tongue.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Dutch says, and it sounds turned on, kinda amazed, and mostly _hot_ in my ears, especially given that I’m still going, and this is fucking fantastic to do, more because they’re both watching me.

When I’m finished, I kinda want to do it to Dutch _right now_ , given what I see when I look down his body again. But Johnny’s already sitting up using just his abs, coming up pretty close between the two of us. The look they exchange as Dutch quickly grabs the glass back from me tells me I’m next.

“You’ve had a drink already,” Johnny says to Dutch, reaching out, but Dutch has taken it far away from him, with his other arm.

“So what? I want another.”

I use the moment to grab hold of the hand with the bottle, and bring it to my mouth, taking a long swig, connecting my gaze with Dutch as I think about what he’s just said he’s gonna do to me.

Johnny lets me swallow that and then peels my fingers away, pulling the bottle to himself, and he’s putting his mouth where mine just was, drinking down.

Dutch allows all of this, but holds the shot glass still well out of Johnny’s reach, and he eventually gets hold of the bottle properly again.

“There, you had your drink,” he tells Johnny.

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Well, hurry the fuck up then, stop talking. I want my turn.”

Dutch grins and pats the bed, nodding at me, clearly wanting me to come more into the middle. He shoves his sheet out the way and shuffles back, so I can lie down between him and Johnny.

It tickles a little when he pours on me, but a lot more when he bends over me and his mouth touches me, and I can’t help shaking, trying not to laugh, even though it’s also an _insane_ turn on.

Dutch grins, his lips hovering over me. “Cut it out, you’re wasting good bourbon.” I watch as he runs a stripe across me with his tongue, and then again, and my erection throbs hard in my trunks. Eventually Dutch’s attention is drawn there, and then I think he’s looking down my legs too.

“Your workout’s paying off, Bobby,” he says, when he sits back to refill me. He slides one hand up to rest on my chest, on my pec, just leaving it there, and I love the idea that he wants to touch me, that he likes my body.

He’s back to it, and my eyes are glued to the sight of him sucking and licking my navel, his lips and tongue, his chin, so wet, so covered in bourbon, it’s depraved, and he’s deliberately coating my stomach with it near there, just so he can lick it off again.

Eventually Johnny sits up higher on his knees and says, “Right, fucking _enough_. My turn.”

Johnny pulls on his shoulders, and Dutch smirks at me and squeezes my chest once with his hand, before backing away to sit down with his knees up in front and his arms resting on top. I can’t help but notice this gives a real good view up his boxer shorts, along his tanned thighs, and to that obvious thick shape inside his boxers, and it’s only when Johnny talks that I tear my eyes away.

He’s filling the glass, and giving Dutch the bottle. “You,” Johnny says to me with heat in his gaze. “Don’t move.”

Johnny’s about to lick my stomach, just like Dutch just _did._ Holy fuck, why haven’t I been doing this all my life?

“Or what?” I challenge, putting my hands up behind my head.

“Try it and you’ll find out,” he suggests, and I watch as he lets a slow trickle out of the glass, letting it splash down onto me, less carefully than we’ve been doing so far, so little droplets fly out all around my navel.

The alcohol’s buzzing in my blood, making me feel like I can do anything I want, have anything I want.

Before Johnny leans down, his hand finds my bulge, and he presses in tight as he runs over my dick, so that by the time his mouth is on my skin, my hands fist and I lift into him, forgetting the warning.

Dutch laughs, and looks at me.

“He’s – cheating –” I say defensively, before gasping again when Johnny starts to rub me harder through my trunks.

“That feel good?” Dutch asks, and by now he’s watching Johnny’s hand with hungry eyes.

“So good…”

Johnny only lifts off my stomach a few inches to pour some more liquor onto me, immediately following a stream of it across me with his mouth and sucking on my skin.

I breathe heavily out, watching the movement, tense need gathering under his hand, which doesn’t stop moving back and forth, and I’m unable not to move against his palm for more.

He drinks from me one more time, and this time I feel his teeth take the skin of my navel, biting me softly, and he squeezes hard with his hand.

“Fuck, yes,” I rasp out, and then his tongue pushes into me again.

When it’s all gone, he stops everything he’s doing, instantly, and sits up on his knees. The sudden loss is beyond frustrating.

“Hey!” I shoot him daggers.

He just smirks and takes hold of Dutch’s wrist to swig from the bottle again.

Then he says, “Told you not to move, didn’t I?”

I shake my head, still longing for him to put at least his _hand_ back. But clearly it’s not going to be that easy, because he’s already advancing on Dutch, backing him down onto the bed, and holding out the glass for Dutch to fill for him, which he does, and then Dutch props the bottle on the bed with his hand around the bottom while he waits, and this looks like something they’ve done before, more than once.

Johnny lies on top of him, stretching his body out along Dutch’s legs, kinda in between them, his chest ending up lying on Dutch’s boxers, and I can see that both are them are getting more drunk now, their faces losing all guardedness, the dirty, unashamed thoughts they’re having for each other written clearly there.

Dutch is fucking _hot_ ; his tight stomach is tensed up, his shoulders pushed up as he supports himself to smirk down at Johnny. There’s a whole bunch of detail to run my eyes over on his upper body, and I need to _get_ some of that.

I’m up on my knees and crawling over to his side, just as Johnny starts to wet him.

Johnny looks at me, and then adds a splash on Dutch’s chest, just for me, which is already running down over his ribs.

I get a glimpse of Johnny’s head coming down pretty low, under Dutch’s navel, before I go to work.

Dutch is so warm under my mouth, and I can’t get enough of the salt caramel taste of his skin with the bourbon. He’s built as fuck, but with just a layer of softness over some parts, that feels incredible to run my tongue over, and it takes me a few seconds to even realise I’ve run out of the sweet smoky taste of bourbon, and it’s all Dutch. I’m calling for more with my eyes, flicking to the bottle, and Dutch smiles and pours a trickle down which runs pretty much into my waiting mouth.

His head tips back as he closes his eyes, a filthy smile on his lips as the two of us take what we want from his body.

Dutch lies down all the way, eventually, and Johnny grabs the bottle to keep the bourbon flowing for the two of us as long as we want. The bottle is nearing its end, and all of us are drunk enough to do pretty much anything that comes into our minds now.

I feel Dutch’s hand slide up in between my thighs, running up one side to my balls, and then down the other, his fingertips dragging over my skin.

He’s looking at me when he says, “You could crack a fucking coconut with these things.”

I smile, and then sigh with longing when he reaches to find me, hard and grateful, and he starts to stroke me the way Johnny was doing, on the outside, not wasting any time with how he sets to it.

“C’mere,” he says, and I move closer, straightening up and watching him touch me. Johnny’s still not done with what he’s doing down there, and I slide a touch along Dutch’s abs, tracing out a line of liquor for Johnny to follow with his tongue, and feeling my heart rate racing again as Dutch brings me off.

Johnny’s got one finger moving slowly along, back and forth inside the waistband of Dutch’s pale blue boxers, and when he sees me watching that, he gives Dutch’s skin one last lick, and then uses that finger to bring the boxers down further, uncovering a line of dark blond hair, almost gold.

Johnny gets up and climbs Dutch, moving his knees either side of Dutch’s thighs, sitting over him, and he still hasn’t taken his jeans off. Dutch’s hard-on, which Johnny must have been lying over, now stands up and presses tightly against his boxers, a wet patch where he has been leaking.

I’m watching the way Dutch smiles at him, the way they’re looking at each other, and I’m somehow feeling both jealous _and_ turned on. Dutch’s hand, rubbing me, seems to make both feelings stronger.

Johnny slips inside the boxer flap to bring Dutch out through the opening. I let out a breath when I see him for the first time, looking at him there while he’s touching me.

There’s a few seconds before Johnny’s hand closes around his dick, where I can see his thickness, the rim around his head, the color of him, like me, those freaking lines of veins I can see running up, and then Johnny’s holding him, and Dutch’s eyes fill with approval.

Johnny presses his hips forward against where he has Dutch, and uses his hand to rub him against his jeans, his fingers protecting him from too much contact with the denim, but right over the top of where I can see the shape of Johnny inside, and there’s something fucking _wild_ about it.

Dutch’s breath hisses out between his teeth, and Johnny does it again and again, and Dutch starts to squirm, and buck up against him. He’s like _pure sex_ with what’s happening to him, and I can’t take my eyes off him: his tanned chest, the muscles running down his body, with that soft layer that I got to run my tongue over before, and the way his hips lift to Johnny. The sight of Johnny stroking down him, hard, deep, so hot that I feel on fire with my need.

There’s a splash of bourbon left, maybe a few mouthfuls, and I take it from where it lies abandoned on the bed and hold it over Dutch.

He’s breathing heavily, groaning, but he sees me up here, locks onto me, gives me this filthy smile, and I start to trickle it down on his chest.

I’m not sure I need the excuse anymore, but I have it.

I leave just the tiniest bit in the bottle, and then I bend down to taste the sweet burn. I start to mouth over Dutch, all over his ribs, up through the middle to where they meet, moving his necklace out of the way, licking the outline of his pecs. He’s still moving, still making sounds that could just about make me come from listening, but his hand can’t reach me effectively anymore, so I probably won’t, and I don’t want to just yet, because I’m way more interested in watching him right now.

I can see stubble at the top of his neck, and I would give anything to put my mouth there, but something makes me hesitate about whether that’s part of this, so I focus on his body instead, which is _plenty_. I can’t help running my hand along his stomach again and again so I can feel the way he’s lifting up to that touch, the way he’s needing it so much.

Johnny’s looking at both of us, watching what I’m doing with my mouth, watching Dutch writhe, watching my hand as my fingers sink into Dutch’s patch of golden hair and slide inside his boxers, under Johnny’s legs, to come around to gently squeeze Dutch from below, cupping his sack, so there are two of us working him.

I can feel he’s already really tight here, and I wonder he hasn’t just come already, but maybe he’s been trying to draw out the moment so Johnny will keep doing _that_. I couldn’t blame him, but soon I hope he’ll want us to help him give up and just _take_ it. Dutch throws his hands out to his sides and pushes down with his palms.

He keeps on cursing and cursing, his groans imprinting on my memory.

His eyes fly open and find Johnny and he grits out, “Oh shit….”

“You wanna come?”

“Fucking yes… _yes…_.”

Johnny’s thumb brushes over his head, and he changes his grip in just the slightest way on his next stroke, and the first jet of white hits his jeans, while Dutch groans, his face in ecstasy, eyes screwed tightly closed again, as the rest of his orgasm hits Johnny’s stomach, the boxers, my arm, and I’m _never_ going to forget this sight.

I’m greedily taking in the details of his face still, until Dutch is in his afterglow instead, sweaty, sexual, hot as hell, and how did I never see that before?

I disengage, but before I can lie down next to him, Johnny climbs off and closes the gap to me, with a dangerous look in his eyes. His hands catch hold of my trunks, and he’s tugging them down my thighs, and I finish that job. Then he roughly, quickly, undoes his button and fly, and I notice the glisten of wetness on his stomach from what just happened. His eyes are hungrily looking at how achingly hard I have been, for what seems like an _hour_.

He pushes his jeans and boxers down, lifts one knee at a time so he can get out of them, and I throb when I see him, _so_ ready to get off with me.

I’m about to reach out, for any of him that my hands fall on first, probably that hard-on that I can practically taste, and I realise my wrist is still covered with Dutch, not that it matters so much, but it’s a lot.

I go to absently wipe it on my body, but Johnny grabs my arm.

He brushes his thumb through the mess there, on the top of my forearm, along where I have a vein, and I can feel his touch slipping over me. My heart stops as he raises his thumb to his mouth, passing that taste between his lips.

“Fucking _hell_ ,” I can’t help but say, more like a groan, and Johnny gives me a smirk to make all my tension start to gather together, real fucking quick.

“You like that?”

I bite my lip and nod helplessly, lost as I watch him lick his thumb again.

My eyes drop down against my will to a certain strip of shine I see on Johnny’s obliques, which might be my favourite part of him, and I have to go for it, I have to know.

I’m already moving down.

It’s slippery, which I guess I knew, but I don’t know I’ve ever tasted anything so silky, and it’s salty and there’s a tang, like earthy copper, strong and intoxicating.

I’m not going to stop doing this, can’t get enough of Johnny’s body, or _this_ , and my hand finds that hard spear which is poking me in the chest and I start to stroke him while I Iick off every trace I can find on him.

“Do you have any idea how fucking _hot_ …?” he breathes down to me, and I feel his hand come onto my shoulder, massaging me.

I’m pushing on his body, and he goes with it, folding his legs around to the side so he can lie back, and I can slide up him to keep going with my mouth on his abs, resting a little to the side so I can keep myself a space to stay stroking him, hard, _fast._

Johnny’s starting to feel tight under my tongue, his muscles flexing as he shifts and responds to me.

I feel Dutch crawl up next to me on Johnny’s other side, and his hand reaches under me, and I crook my leg to lift up enough that he can find me, touch me again, but this time skin on skin, and sweet relief breaks over me, knowing that it won’t take long of him doing that.

“Give me this,” he says, hot, near my ear, and his fingers press in tight around me, so _tight._ “And let me show you something.”

He’s nudging me, and I realise he wants to take the place of my hand on Johnny. I let him, sure he won’t disappoint me with whatever he’s thinking, and he replaces my fingers with his own.

All I gotta do is move myself over Johnny’s thigh, out of the way so that Dutch can lie in there, and I’m on my side right next to them, where he can easily reach me. Dutch is between Johnny’s legs, lower than I was, and he looks one last time down at where he has me in his hand, watching as he strokes me, like it’s the best thing he could think of looking at.

“You’re fucking _beautiful,_ Bobby…” he says about me, there. “Just as nature intended.”

I practically whimper, and then he’s focusing on Johnny again. I know what he’s going to do, and I’m biting my lip hard when he does, when I watch the way he makes Johnny disappear inside his mouth.

A deep and urgent sound comes from Johnny, who’s pushing his head back hard into the bed, his jaw tight, his neck a long line down to his chest. Dutch takes him back out, licks flat over his head and then I watch the slide back between his wet lips, and Johnny swears. I see the hollow in Dutch’s cheeks next time, and I’m taking in every fucking detail, knowing I’ll dream about this for months, maybe years.

I don’t know how I’m going to wait through, but I’ll try, even as I start sinking into the ache growing under Dutch’s attention on me, that he somehow keeps up, even as he starts to blow Johnny like all our lives depend on it.

Johnny’s absolutely losing it, starting to groan at the ceiling, and his hips rock twice, three times, and Dutch takes his mouth down just one side, the far side, and I can watch everything, how wet, how hard it all is, how fucking erotic his tongue is doing that, and I can’t fight my itch any more.

“ _Holy fuck_ …” I warn him as everything draws right up, and I see his smile as he takes Johnny back inside, and the sound from Johnny tells me it’s his time already, and I spend the last few seconds, knowing that I’ve let go and I’m about to come, watching Dutch’s lips become more wet as Johnny fills his mouth, watching him swallow, watching Johnny’s reflexive thrusts.

My release forces my eyes closed and just about kills me as the shudders start and the ache breaks, like being hit by a tall building, and I’m throbbing in Dutch’s hand, grinding out sounds that scrape my throat, and there’s warmth on my stomach, on all that hot skin of theirs that is touching me, on the bed, and this is all so corrupt, that I figure it might as well go full circle and I’ll call it perfect, which it is.

We’re gasping, panting as we get our breaths back. Johnny’s body has gone limp, much like I feel, and when I open my eyes, Dutch is staring up at him. It’s that look again, something private that doesn’t include me, even though Johnny doesn’t even have his eyes open for the first few seconds of it, until he does.

I’m wondering if Johnny will break the moment, put an end to it like he usually does, maybe make a comment that Dutch is talented or something, which I’d be forced to agree with, but he doesn’t.

Johnny closes his eyes again and reaches out behind his head until he finds a pillow, and he sticks it under his head.

“Straight off to sleep?” Dutch teases lightly.

Johnny smiles and doesn’t say anything, and Dutch lies his head down on Johnny’s thigh to look at me, our faces about a foot apart.

“You get used to it.”

I have so, so many questions, because falling sleep in a bed together was never anything I imagined they had done, or that I was allowed to do with Johnny, but I’ll keep them to myself, because I don’t know if I’ll get answers even if I try.

“Fuck,” Dutch says, when he shifts a little and lies in something damp that could likely be my fault. “I really need to do my fucking laundry.”

He’s grinning at me, almost a grimace, because his bed really is just disgusting now, wet with bourbon, and wet with sweat and come.

He sighs heavily, and I can tell he’s gonna get up to change the sheets so we can go to sleep.

But just before he does, he swipes his thumb over my mouth, and gives me one last smile.


End file.
